women lie men lie
Women lie, men lie
Women lie, men lie
Women lie, men lie
Numbers don't lie
Ay, step up in the party and them bad bitches be on me
I be sipping on Patron when I'm jumping out Ferrari's
I be rocking Gucci, sometimes Louis, I'm retarded
And the rims by Asanti, but the shades by Bulgari
Hand on my scrap, I got my mind on my money
Plus if my mind on dine, he ain't taking nothing from me
Headed on this choppa tool, headed on this choppa tool
Got headed on a hundered round cause that's how much the choppa shoot
Ball-balling is my hobby, counting hundreds, going shopping
And a 5 star wit me and I met her in the lobby
Took her to the room, she hit me with that line
Said she ain't that type of girl, so I told her stop lyin'
Young Money, yeah!
Okay, I ain't gotta lie, cross my heart, hope to die
Them numbers don't lie, G5 over sky
I fucked her pussy good, make her cry if I tried
But I'm tired of being sick, and I'm sick of being tired
Tired of these niggas, and tired of these bitches
And shit, let them lie, long as they ain't snitching
And men lie about women
And shit; women lie about plenty
And they ain't lying on me
I'm in the bed with two fine bitches lying on me
So that would make three, and numbers don't lie
And money don't lie, and neither do I, bitch!
 Cause I'm the truth
Yeah Now what are you? Haha!
I'm tryna count to a billion
My bitch, Brazilian
Hop in that Lamb', push the button, lose the ceiling
Sun out, no rain drops, posting the same spot
Right here in North, North Memphis where I came from
Hundred on the neck, I ain't never had shit
That the streets gave me family, Barry White cut the check
Ain't no secret in the streets, niggas know I got neck
Got the swagger through the roof, I was born just to flex
Zip code on my wrist, phone number in the bank
In my ten 'til six with my 305 paint
I got my 3-5-7 and my 501's
In a Lear 55 wit my Air Force Ones
No lie!
Women lie, men lie
Women lie, men lie
Say what you want but the fucka' don't lie